


Let's Groove

by Thundercatroar



Series: Like Mother Universe [1]
Category: Hey Arnold!
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Dancing, Disco, F/M, High School Prom, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-28
Updated: 2020-09-28
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:41:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26693131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thundercatroar/pseuds/Thundercatroar
Summary: Sometimes you just have to let go and live in the moment.
Relationships: Friendship comfort - Relationship
Series: Like Mother Universe [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1942456
Kudos: 1





	Let's Groove

The loud bass line and screaming lyrics of a song being performed punched through the walls of a lowly lit high school gymnasium. The open spaces were bedecked with elaborately tangled inexpensive streamers and balloons held up with tape on the basketball backboards and rafters.

As the music got louder, a tall red haired boy yelled above the din at his attractive date, in a less than pleased manner as he grabbed her elbow, "Where are you going?"

The irritated girl snatched her arm away from the boy and snapped back a few octaves higher, with irritation decorating her well made face, "I'm going to go get some punch. Is that okay with you?"

The boy caught the girl's slender naked white shoulder and said, "Hey, bring me some back while you're at it, Babe."

Rhonda exhaled, turned, and then rolled her eyes walking away from her date for the senior prom towards the refreshment table. The prom was almost over and he hadn't asked her to dance again.

All she had done was flit around the gymnasium like a social butterfly and listen to the dull details of the latest football game her date helped win. The one time they did dance that night, her date had a hard time keeping his eyes out of her cleavage; and telling the glaring differences between the small of her back from her backside.

Rhonda was all too happy to be away from him and his greedy groping hands for a moment.  
The worst thing about it all was that she had done this to herself. She had wanted this date with the handsome quarterback so badly she could taste it, and had schemed for weeks to get him to take her to the dance.

All of her Machiavellian scheming had paid off, for she was with him no doubt, but from the moment he had come to the house to pick her up, to that very moment; the entire evening had turned into an over long tortuous hell that Hieronymus Bosch wouldn't have been able to bring himself to paint.

She wished she could leave and go home; but she had spent a small fortune on a dress, shoes, hair styling, and make-up. Rhonda Wellington Lloyd was there to make an appearance, and even worse, she had done so much boasting to anyone and everyone who would listen about the boy she had roped into taking her to the dance, she'd lose face if she left now. As it was now, unfortunately, Rhonda figured that she should take the advice of her father, buck up, and endure the entire train wreck of an evening, and salvage as much dignity as she could muster.

Ms. Lloyd arrived at the refreshment table, and then slopped cheap electric red punch that had been spiked with reeking liquor of unknown provenance into two tiny paper cups. As she did, she begged internally in prayer beseeching whatever deity that could possibly be listening for anything to save her from her misery date. Not wanting to go back to her date any time too soon, and looking around at the garish decorations to stall for time, Rhonda took a sip of the artificially fruity liquid in her cup, and was instantly repulsed by both its disgusting flavor, and mouth burning strength. Her classmates were such "coinersewers" the girl scoffed mentally, and Rhonda theorized that the liquor that was in the tacky red ghetto punch just had to have come in a big plastic bottle.

As she watched a fly flit around, then light upon a plate of sugar cookies, the disgusted girl was fully grateful that she had already eaten. At least she was interested by the common housefly's waltz across several cookies as it rubbed its hind legs together to the music.

The disgusting vermin was certainly more interesting than her date, Jonathan Donovan, but as she watched the fly tap dance across the cookies; she felt they had a lot in common too.

Looking from side to side, the thoughtful girl surreptitiously picked three of the cookies that she knew for sure the fly had walked over, and threw them away.

Unknown to her, a boy watched her every move that evening.

Rhonda looked so sad; and it seemed that whenever he saw her in the halls that year, there was always an undercurrent of unhappiness in her eyes.

Of course the gifted actress pretended to be happy when she was around her friends with the fake smile, loud boastful laughs, and practiced speech in the halls at school.

That was what the extravagantly wealthy were, right?

The sad girl played her part to perfection, he could say that much, because she had the money, a kick ass car, and no limit plastic; as Lily Allen sang, Rhonda's life was fuckin' fantastic.

The wise boy knew better though, and it broke his heart to see Rhonda Lloyd so chained. He knew the boundless potential the girl had if she would just quit worrying about the opinions of the "in" crowd, what her parents desired, and do what she wanted for a change for the first time in her life.

He had seen her artwork doodles and designs in class in her notebooks, and she had real talent that blew him away. She had signed up to take art class an elective, but her parents made her drop that, and add a class more in keeping with admissions requirements for college.

Unfortunately, Rhonda's parents had already ordained that she was going to go to Princeton after her conception eighteen years earlier; and they were paying for her to become an attorney at law, and absolutely nothing else.

What Rhonda wanted wasn't even a consideration at that point, which he felt was extremely selfish of her parents.

The kind, observant boy wished there was a way he could help her realize what she should be doing with her life, but he downheartedly pondered that people like her, at best, never bothered to notice people like him, and at worst, had no use for them either.

Besides, the wise boy astutely pondered, sometimes you have to figure out what you want, and free yourself with no help, too. Prisons, more often or not, were of the recipient's own making, and until Rhonda was willing to take those hard but necessary steps to freedom, she would always be unhappy.

He could empathize with her in a way, for he was sad a lot too.

It had been three months since he had lost his parents in the fire that ripped through the home he had known since he was a child, and if he hadn't been given reprieve from a fiery death by the brave soul known as Monkeyman, he would be lying in Hillwood Cemetery next to his parents.

He wasn't unscathed however, as he raised his hand to touch his scarred face, but at least he was alive, technically speaking.

So, instead of being out on the floor with his childhood friends having fun for what might be the last time with them, he sat in a corner; vicariously living through them and other kids on the cusp of adulthood feeling like he was dead.

Arnold Shortman was dancing with Lila Sawyer; while his girlfriend, cheerleader Ashley Carter, tried desperately not to look like she was burning an ever so gaping black hole in Lila's back with her evil beady, jealous little eyes.

What Arnold saw in his hateful girlfriend, the observant boy had absolutely no idea. She was pretty no doubt, but the beauty faded when she opened her abrasive demanding mouth.

Gerald Johannsen was with his small omnipresent better half, Phoebe Heyerdahl. Both of them were swaying together out of sync with the music looking attached at the hips like every other day he saw them in the halls at school. The couple was so inseparable in fact; people had jokingly called them "Geroebe" since their junior year at school.

The most changed kid he knew was onstage performing the wild live music the kids were dancing to. Brainy whose real name was Douglas Brian Dempsey, was the founder and front man of the locally successful garage band called, "SmashNose" which was a funk, soul, and rock fusion group.

Brainy, and his talented friends; Sid, Park, Siobhan Andrews, and Torvald had started playing and singing together their sophomore year of high school honing their talents, and it paid off.  
The group made a good bit of money playing parties and banquets for clients in town. The five of them were actually actively sending demo tapes of their music to companies in the music industry. They had already gotten some interested nibbles from some major record labels for signing.

It was just so odd to the boy watching, to see the once quiet, skinny, and asthmatic boy that Helga Pataki used to punch in the nose regularly, strumming a bass guitar shirtless, muscular, and shockingly vocal.

As he sat alone in his thoughts, the boy even wondered how Helga Pataki was doing where ever in the world she was.

Before she left for South Dakota with her mother in the middle of the eighth grade after her father passed away, he asked her what the "G" in her middle name stood for when she referred to herself in the third person.

It had to have been the longest conversation he had ever had with the girl in his entire life. The boy figured that seeing as it would be his last conversation with her probably; he might as well make it count, and satisfy his curiosity.

She said that she would tell him if he'd keep it a secret, as it was the last bit of mystique that she would have left when she was gone from Hillwood City. He promised to keep that part of her secret, so she confessed to him that her middle name was Geraldine.

The charming boy told her that it was a pretty name for a beautiful girl.

He was fearful when the shocked looking girl gazed at him like she was stricken; with her dazzling blue eyes glazed with what he was sure were the beginnings of tears.

In that moment, the boy didn't know if Helga Geraldine Pataki was going to punch him in the face, or kick him somewhere a little more interesting, and painful for what he said.

But, before he could apologize for perhaps hurting her feelings, Helga smiled in a way that looked almost grateful, placed her hands on either side of his face, closed her eyes, and drew him in for a gentle kiss on the lips.

He had kissed other girls before; but they were in the order of his mother, grandmother, and an aunt, but Helga Geraldine Pataki however, had given him his first official "girl kiss", and he would always cherish the memory of it.

The boy genuinely hoped that wherever Helga was that night, she was happy, and dancing with someone worthy of her sweet kisses too.

Lastly, and on a more entertaining note, kids were giving Sheena and Eugene a wide berth while they were doing some sort of pre-choreographed eclectic jig off to themselves. Eugene and she had thought the complicated, but wild moves up for the dance club, but they were never used in a school function before that night.

The boy gathered that his friends tried really hard, but the dance they were executing wound up making both of them look like epileptic rag dolls as they shook and jittered in front of each other.

The hidden boy in the corner was glad that they appeared to be happy with each other, and at any other time would have found it funny how they looked. If circumstances were different, he himself would have probably joined in with them too, truth be known. He was weird enough to, but even the sight of the latter couple could not cheer him up.

Soon the boy's mind dwelled the realm of the serious.

Not only was his mind occupied by the ever present loss of his parents, but his upcoming birthday as well. He would be eighteen in less than a month, and his worthless uncle had already told him to start packing, and to get the hell out of his sight.

His parents foolishly made his uncle his guardian and given him power of attorney over their wills. Instead of taking care of him, giving him a good home, or at least providing for his rudimentary needs; his uncle stole every dime his parents had saved for himself, that he was supposed to get when he turned eighteen.

That was bad enough, but added to that theft, his guardian spoke to and treated him like either garbage or a punching bag.

The only reason why he was there at the dance at all to begin with was to get away from his Uncle Gray's abusive mouth, and painfully bony knuckles.

Sometimes the boy didn't go home for days at a time, opting to sleep in Mighty Pete when it was warm enough, getting up, and just going to school from there.

The courageous man who saved his life, along with his generous aunt and uncle would give him a place to stay when it was cold, fed him when he was starving, and when could take no more at his lovely warm "home".

They had gone as far as to offer to let him live with them when they found out he was living part of the time in a tree house, but he wouldn't dream of taking them up on their generous offer. Those kind people had little enough as it was, and taking care of a kid who wasn't even their responsibility and almost an adult to begin with; was too much to ask of anyone.

He had a job at a local grocery store as a bagger he liked, but he knew that he was going to have to quit that one, and get a better paying job if he were to start his freshman year at State College that fall to be able to live.

Thank God he at least had a grant to help with his tuition and dorm room. He also had wisely saved some money to get him started, but he knew he'd have to make more.

As he watched the student body sway in time with music dressed to the nines in satin dresses and pressed tuxedos, he looked down at himself and there was no comparison between him and them. He looked regal in his ripped, faded blue jeans, black high top Chucks, and shirt with a hole in the waist area with a symbol from a cartoon emblazoned on it. So instead of dancing, there he sat trying to plot out his next move as music pulsed in his ears, and his stomach rumbled.

At least there was food there. Since he didn't have any money to spare, and he sure as hell wasn't going to go home that night, he better try to fill himself up on something while there was some food still left.

The boy got up and made his way to the refreshment table through an undulating maze of thrashing kids and un-attentive chaperons. When he got there, the beautiful girl was still there, grimacing. He picked up a cup, fingered a clear plastic ladle, and started to pour himself a drink when he received a bit of friendly advice, "I wouldn't drink much of that if I were you."

The boy turned to the gorgeous young woman and asked, "Why, what's wrong with it?"

Rhonda responded, "It smells like a distillery."

The boy took a testing sniff of the punch and she was absolutely right. "It is a little strong." The boy loudly confessed.

The girl circled her index finger around the half filled bowl, and continued with a bellowing, "The fire marshal should put no smoking placards around the punchbowl, 'cause it's a hazard." The boy laughed loudly and genuinely for the first time in weeks.

Rhonda Lloyd could be funny, who would have ever thought?

"Are you having a good time tonight?" The boy asked in a loud voice already knowing the response.

"Yes," The boy watched her downcast eyes tell the truth, then listened to her smiling lips simultaneously lie and try to convince herself, "I'm having a wonderful time! I'm just getting some punch for myself and date."

The boy honestly replied in the same volume she had used, "He should be getting you punch."

Rhonda had to agree, but there was not a polite, chivalrous bone in her date's entire body.

The bored girl wondered what sort of fee she would be expected to pay later for the honor of his company when she was alone with the boorish boy in his father's Jaguar.

If his greedy handed actions in public were any indication of the treatment she'd get when alone with him, she was sure that she'd feel more like a fumbled football, rather than a lady.

Rhonda looked at the boy she had known for a good long while. She didn't have any feelings of distaste for him in particular, but she didn't have any real fondness for him either. Her heart did go out to him, though, as life had been hard for him as of late.

She wouldn't have wished anything like that happening to anyone.

As she looked upwards into the boy's eyes, she could see the tragedy that he had survived had a negative effect not only physically, but psychologically on him as well.

Soon her eyes found the scar on his face again, trying desperately to not focus on it. Rhonda was polite enough for that, despite the fact that it was difficult to do. Soon the occupied girl was training her eyes elsewhere so as not to stare.

The live music stopped playing and the couple could speak normally, and Rhonda asked the boy looking at the decorations trailing from the ceiling, "Are you having a good time tonight?"

  
The boy replied with a specially crafted lie of his own, trying not to sound bitter, "A regular ball."

  
The boy pretended to not notice the girl too, as he held a cup of punch he had no intention of drinking. He took in as well as he could through his peripheral vision, the slender, graceful swan that stood next to him in a black off the shoulder gown.

As the two stood at the table in uncomfortable silence contemplating each other without making eye contact a recording of popular party standard began to play. As the robotic sounding voice suggested to the dancers to boogie down, Rhonda asked, "So, who are you here with?"

The boy responded, "I'm flyin’ solo tonight."

What transpired next was strange.

It was a spontaneous action that sprang out of her despite the years of conditioned judgmental, cold behavior she had trained herself to abide by.

In hindsight what the girl did could be attributed to the boredom she felt, her guilty pleasure of shocking people, a moment of empathetic kindness for one whom fate had kicked much too hard as of late, or an act of God.

No matter the circumstance, Rhonda Lloyd heard herself burst out with the invitation of, "Well, c'mon then! Let's go!" The girl commanded as she grabbed the surprised boy's hand, making him drop his full cup of liquor laced punch on the brown lacquered hardwood floor as she pulled him behind her.

"Where? What are you doing, Rhonda?" The boy asked in shock, as he felt everyone's eyes in the gymnasium grope them with perverse interest.

The stronger than she looked girl dragged the boy to the middle of the gymnasium floor, grinning widely. "You have to have a dance once tonight," Ms. Lloyd said with a lilt of the obvious, and a joking tone that was uncharacteristically full of mischief and what sounded sort of like fun, "Even if it is with me!"

Rhonda began to dance in tune with the beat of the song as the boy watched in shock standing ramrod straight in front of her, and the boy formally yelled, "But I can't dance, Miss Lloyd!"

Rhonda spun on her heels and responded in near irritation, "You're completely _full_ of **crap** , too!" The boy's eyes widened as the girl stepped closer, and looked up at him with her squinted eyes, "I've seen your moves out on top of the bus ramp roof!" The boy blushed at the statement, thinking that no one had seen him as Rhonda spat out in a demanding tone, "So I know you can dance, so get out here and move your _ass_!"

The boy looked into the girl's fearsome eyes then obeyed. He threw his problems from his mind for a moment, and took the song's advice about sharing the spice of life.

The happier boy took one of the girl's hands into his, and they moved their feet together pulling towards each other then fainting away.

_Let this groove light up a fuse, it's alright, alright..._

The boy began to loosen up even more, and twirled the graceful swan under his arm then pulled her towards his embrace; only to release her before his body touched hers.

_Gotta' let you know girl, you're looking good, you're out of sight, and alright..._

And she did! The boy gazed into the big gorgeous brown eyes of his dreams.

Dear God in heaven he was with an angel because Rhonda was so lovely. It was inevitable that he blushed when she smiled, took his hands in hers, and sang the lyrics to the song while she moved in front of him.

_Just move yourself, and glide like a **747**_...

The two whirled in a circle, but suddenly the deft boy whipped her around to the side with one arm and pulled her back, placing his hand lightly on the small of her back before repeating the prior action in the opposite direction.

The kids dancing around the unlikely couple stopped moving themselves, and made a large circle around them watching in awe, as they continued to move skillfully across the space made by their peers.

As the boy danced with the girl he even found the courage to pretend that the graceful beauty was his date. He knew that that would never happen in reality, and that even hoping such would be a practice in futility.

This one time however, for once, the boy lived in the moment, and pretended that she was his girl, for one shining, much too brief period of time.

_What you found is happiness now..._

And he had!

He couldn't believe that he was dancing, and it was with the wonderful Rhonda Lloyd! What was even more surprising was that she was good at it too! Rhonda had shocked him with her hidden talent, and he couldn't help but wonder what else she could do that no one else knew about.  
As they tried to top each other on moves, the boy knew that she was so wasted on the un-appreciative, stupid neanderhole that she was supposed to be dancing with.

_You will find peace of mind on the floor, take a little time, come and see, you and me, make a little sign, I'll be there after awhile, if you want my love..._

The boy smiled wickedly at the girl as he got a bold idea.

The girl, he had to admit to himself, looked more than a bit worried at his expression, but as he studied it he had to think, 'well why the hell not'?

This was a once in a lifetime opportunity, sometimes God tossed people a mulligan for the hell of it, and he for one wasn't going to fritter it away!

Besides, she couldn't possibly hope to top this move!

_We can boogie on down, down, boogie on down..._

With no warning the boy tipped Rhonda down into the lowest dip she had ever been in her life.

  
For a brief moment, Rhonda felt fear as the wind whistled past by her ears, and wondered perhaps the boy who held her might drop her, but he stopped her descent gently, with only her long raven hair touching the floor. The surprised girl was forced to place her hands on the boy's shoulders, and it was a surprise to her, but they were deceptively strong, large, and well muscled.

The crowd of kids cheered and clapped in unison with the beat of the music and the movements of the couple's feet as the song ended.

_Let's groove tonight! Share the spice of life, baby slice it right, we gonna' groove tonight..._

The music ended and the entire gymnasium was in an uproar cheering, hooting, and enthusiastically patting the girl and boy on the back, and the boy couldn't help but have a wide grin on his face that almost exposed every one of his white teeth. In turn, Rhonda pointed at the boy, waved her hands above her head in a "come on give it up" motion, and actually clapped for him.

The crowd parted as another song started to play, the boy worked up his courage and walked over to Rhonda. "You really danced so well, Rhonda!" Out of breath he panted, "I can't believe that you did that!" The boy was visibly excited as he questioned her, "Where in the world did you learn to move like that, who taught you?"

Rhonda blushed at the praise, because she hadn't ever been complimented on her dancing skills before. "My grandmother taught me how when I was little, then she enrolled me in classes." With a fond smile, she added, "Grandma said that learning how to dance would help me find my soul mate." Rhonda thought of her date when she added, "Gramma' also told me to never marry a man who couldn't dance." She said as she abashedly as she fiddled with the opalescent pearl necklace around her neck and looked at him.

If the boy didn't know any better, he could swear that the usually reserved Rhonda Lloyd just might be blushing.

By then the boy was blushing too, because he really wanted to be her soul mate.

The girl was looking down and to the side still toying with her necklace and the boy truthfully declared, "That's a lovely strand of pearls, Rhonda." He took a step closer to her, and looked down into her eyes. When the girl's eyes met his, she noticed his sweet eyes squinted when he smiled.

It was kind of cute, maybe, she thought as she brought herself back to reality.

The girl gushed, finding it difficult to speak for some reason, "Well, thank you, I, it belonged to her, I mean my grandmother." Rhonda looked downwards, and explained with a quieter voice, "She left it to me when she passed last year." With a fond smile that relieved the boy, Rhonda continued, "When I was a little girl, Gramma' would let me play with this strand, even though it was a bit too expensive to be a plaything." Rhonda's eyes fell and she said in a heartfelt manner, "She was always so kind to me, and I really miss her."

The boy nodded in empathy as he looked upwards to afford Rhonda an opportunity to wipe a tear away unseen. "Nicole Descroix Lloyd. She was a member of the Hillwood Garden Society; her roses dominated growing contests every year until she was unable to garden." Noticing the expression on Rhonda's face, the respectful boy stopped short before he upset her too much. "I know you're bound to miss someone so special." The boy concluded tactfully, gently holding Rhonda's soft hand in the effort of comforting her, "I am sure that she was a really nice lady, and I am truly sorry that you've lost her."

Rhonda looked stricken, "How did you know all of," But before she could question anymore about the boy's knowledge of her loss, the couple was interrupted by her date.  
Jonathan tromped intrusively towards the conversing couple and forcefully asked, "Are you ready to go yet? It's so damn boring here it's freakin' pathetic!" The rude, hateful boy looked at the other boy up and down as he cruelly joked, "Nice clothes, _Burny_ , where did you get 'em? The dumpster out back?"

Then the despicable boy turned to Rhonda. "I'll be waiting over there when you're done." He walked away and leaned his back against a wall, glaring at the boy Rhonda was talking to.

Rhonda looked at the boy, he looked stricken, so she tried to begin an apology, "I-I'm so," The hurt boy looked down into her eyes, but Rhonda's apology stuck in her throat and refused to budge.

There was no point in continuing it. How in the world could you apologize for something like that?

"I have to go." Rhonda announced as she lowered her eyes, and turned to leave, but then stopped and turned again, and with a genuine smile, she confessed, "I really enjoyed dancing with you tonight."

The brave boy took a chance, took a step forward, gently grabbed Rhonda's hand, and placed a gentle kiss on the back of it. "I shall never forget this evening as long as I live, Miss Lloyd, thank you."

Rhonda walked towards her mean spirited date with her head turned over her shoulder looking at the boy with an undefined feeling.

Jonathan pushed himself off his back against the wall, and hooked his arm in hers. When he did, he tugged her away forcefully, asking with irritation in his voice, "Who was that loser?"

The boy watched the gorgeous young woman leave, as her worthless date made a rude comment about his hair looking like a rat's nest.

Rhonda looked over her shoulder at the boy a last time before turning back and answering, "He's just a boy I used to know when I was a little kid."

With that, the boy she had just danced with looked down at the floor feeling more alone in the world than he ever did before.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, Arnold was created by Craig Bartlett and all related characters and indicia are the property of Viacom Inc. No infringement on their property is implied nor should be inferred.
> 
> The high top canvas shoes commonly known as "Chucks" or "Chuck Taylors" belong to the shoe company Converse. No infringement on their property is implied nor should be inferred.
> 
> The song "The Fear" is performed by Lily Allen, and its lyrics are owned by someone who isn't me and I don't pretend ownership or anything of the like. There aren't any lyrics of the song in the story but one word used liberally in the song, and I used her name too.
> 
> The song "Let's Groove" was composed by Maurice White; Wayne Vaughn and performed by Earth Wind and Fire. No infringement on their property is implied nor should be inferred. 
> 
> I don't own any of Hieronymus Bosch's artistic works, unfortunately, especially the ones that have Hell as subject material.


End file.
